"What's the difference between All-Bran and fiber? I thought they were the same thing."
"Not really. All-Bran is a product that has a high-amount of fiber. Fiber, I think, is a part of the wheat kernel that the body can't digest."
"But apples aren't wheat, and they have fiber."
"Right, sorry. Fiber is just a part of pants and grains we can't digest."
"Then why does it make you crap?"
"Since you can't digest it, your body just pushes it out."
"How do you know all this?"
"I have this theory that the problem with America is that everyone is constipated. I mean, look at what people eat. Meat and potatoes. No fiber. Constipation leads to hypertension, weight gain, lack of energy, sluggishness. That pretty much describes Americans, if you ask me. Personally, I think the greatest thing the military can do right now is carpet-bomb America with boxes of All-Bran."
"Yeah, great idea."
"Hey, if you were on a battlefield, would you want a 22-rifle or a Daisy Cutter?"
"I'd want a shotgun for crowd control."

"It was something about being forced to have foreskin re-constructive surgery. The anxiety about being circumcised against his will. And now having to choose a natural foreskin or the Naugahyde foreskin. In any case, it was a dream, so it's not that big of a deal."

"They don't burn fat from their torso. Only the tail."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"It makes perfect sense. The fat in the tail is used to prevent starvation."
"That must be why women have such big behinds."
"We're talking about a different species."
"Believe me, I know.

"Mikey, are you done in there."
"No."
"What's going on?"
"Nothing."
"You need help?"
"I don't know."
"Let me in, okay? Oh, not again! You got it all over your pants. And your shoes? What were you doing?"
"Nothing."
"What a mess. We don't have a change of clothes for you, you know. And this won't wipe off very well."
"Sorry."
"You're the one that's going to have to walk around in it, not me."

"I'm so sick of this Alex guy at work. He keeps putting his trashcan under my desk."
"What's he doing that for?"
"I don't know. He's got some kind of retarded, neon lighting thing that lights up the bottom of his desk like a tricked out car."
"Is he Asian?"
"No, I think he wants to be, though."
"So, why's he putting his trashcan under your desk?"
"He doesn't want the inside of the trashcan all lit up. He says it blinds him."
"Then tell him to turn the lights out."
"I can't. He's friends with my boss. And my boss might be pissed because I yelled at the guy today. He threw a candy bar wrapper under my desk, and it hit me in the leg. And he didn't even bother to pick it up and throw it away. I said, 'Alex, aren't you going to pick it up?' And he said, 'Don't be full of double standards.'"
"What does that mean?"
"Hell if I know. So, I said, 'Alex, pack up your fucking trash and your fucking lights, and get out of here before you get hurt.'"
"Wow, what he do?"
"I don't know. I just went home."

"Her voice is, like, sooo annoying."
"I know. I hear it in my sleep."
"I wish she'd, like, change her voice. It sounds totally funny."
"Totally. You know, she can't even use Excel."
"No way."
"Yeah, but her boyfriend is some kind of Excel guy. But she always has me sort her columns."
"No way."
"Yeah, I wish she'd just go away."
"Yeah, like, me too."

"You don't have to create a page for yourself, you know. Karen created one for her dog. You'd be surprised how many people check her dog's blog every day, just to see what's going on."

"School's out, dude. This is going to be the summer of love."
"Yeah, last year was the summer of pot."
"No shit, huh?"
"'Member how Karl smoked so much, he just, like, sat in that outhouse in Golden Gate Park, for like, hours?"
"Yeah, dude."
"That was awesome."
"Yeah."

"Hey, watch it. Why're you Chinese people always pushing?"
"I'm not Chinese."
"Whatever."

"I'm seven. How old are you?"
"Six."
"This is my brother Nolan. I'm his big sister. NOLAN!"
"What?"
"NOLAN!"
"Quiet. This is my shirt. It's got a frog on it."
"Frogs."
"No, frog."
"I like magic wands."
"So."
"Is that your Mom?"
"Yeah."
"She's got big legs."

"I hate buying condoms."
"Not me. I love it."
"Why?"
"Hell, I don't know. The only time it seemed weird was when I picked up some Trojans, KY, and a bottle of Gatorade at Walgreen's, and the guy at the counter was like, 'Some Tuesday'."

"I mean, I'm thirty-five. I don't need a guy who listens to a band called Mastodon and thinks Santana Row is a cool place to hang out."